Suicide Notes and Butterfly Kisses
by Kitsune12
Summary: The Wheel of Times rules the Pattern of Life, but can Trunks figure love out quickly enough? *Complete* Sequel on the way
1. Prologue

A/N: Hey everyone.. I decided to try my hand at writing after reading the worst P/T where Pan tries to kill herself.. My opinion is that if Pan is going to be suicidal she should at least go through with it. Besides, it makes a better story. Anyways.. all I have to say is that if you think my story is as pathetic as I thought the other one, please tell me. Also, I am always open to suggestion, but please remember this is my first shot at fanfictions.  
  
Disclaimer: I swear all I own is Mr. Smiley-Bob and a bunch of anime dvds. So please don't sue me. I need my money for college.. (Duke..here I come...I hope).P.S. I do not own the Wheel of Time, thats copyrighted by Robert Jordan and Homeland is R.A. Salvatore's. This disclaimer is going to serve for the entire story. Thanx  
  
~Kitsune~  
  
--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=  
Prologue: The Wheel  
  
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age lost past, a wind rose outside a solitary mountain home. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings or endings to the Wheel of Time. But it was A beginning. 


	2. Happiness is a Loaded Gun

A/N: I hope that you liked the prologue and if you don't I am very sorry. Please feel free to review. This should be my last updating until I get back from skiing (I'll be back the 3rd). Thanx for reading. ~Kitsune~  
  
--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= Chapter 1: Happiness is a Loaded Gun  
  
Have you ever wondered what it feels like to die? I have and now I think I know. Dieing is not physical. It is when your soul shrivels up and starts to rot. It is when you hurt too much too care. I am dieing. Now if only I could leave this world. Hopefully, I will. The wise always say that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but if that is true, why all this pain? Love is just another way to bleed and happiness is a loaded gun, ready to be shot so as to malfunction and kill its holder. When Grandpa left the gun was placed in my hands and now it has gone off. I am so sorry. Death is all encompassing. It is a void that is swallowing me. Peice- by-peice I disappear. And now I have found the faith to kill myself. No, not myself. Kill the pain. Remove it permanently. I have found the strength to kill the monster before it killed me. I destroyed the soul-eating black hole inside me. Remember this, all answers are no. Life hurts. Death cures all.  
  
-Pan --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--=  
  
The pain was immense, but the ebony-haired woman ignored it. She kept the razor-edged knife pressed against porcelain wrists and then pulled the knife across. Almost immediately, little crimson drops stained white arms. Slowly, like a careening wagon gaining velocity when speeding down a steep hill, more red liquid appeared till it overflowed. And, like a waterfall, fell to the floor. Noone could save her now, that fallen angel with the blighted heart. For, in life, none may help one save oneself, and when one gives up, all is lost. Finally the waterfall started to dry up, its source drained of the precious blood, till all that was left was an unsteady trickle that dripped into a lake of red. And it took an eternity for each small drop to form and finally fall. It was as if time was slowed and everything took ten times as long to happen and fifty for the action to be complete. Now the raven-haired female lay on her side, framed by her blood, lifeless. The pale cream skin looked the same, but no tingle of life shone from her eyes, betraying the life-like appearance of the corpse. Her wrist was thrown above her head, as if, saint-like, she was reaching for the heavens, or maybe like an auctioneer showing off some precious bauble. And across her wrist the slit shone like some macrebre thing. It was as if Satan himself had made a home in that horrid gash, and the eternal flames of hell glinted evilly from within his new home. The demons danced around the slash. The crimson color clashed horribly with the porcelein of her skin. And nothing could be done to erase the red ink from the white paper. And then, like an eye-dropper sucking up water, all color vanished from her body. The corpse that was once beautiful and as colorful as the rainbow became gray and dull. Life and soul left the body leaving behind only an empty case. Nothing that was loved in that person was left and all must pay the price. But what price can be put on a human life? Life is to be pure, prized, and priceless. No amount of money can but back a life, no amount of tears ressucitate dead lips. Life is an intangible thing, and is the most expensively fragile item possessed by all. 


	3. Kissing Bathroom Floors

A/N: Anyways, here is my second chapter. I don't really care whether or not you like it, I do. Oh, and ages might be helpful I guess so here they are. Pan: 17 Bra: 16 Goten: 31 Trunks: 32  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't even own the computer I am typing on. My dad does. And he's mean and doesn't like to share. So don't bother sueing. He'll just complain and says its his and then say fuck off and leave. (trust me.. he does it to me about the car!)  
  
And now, back to the farm......(ask your parents, they'd understand)  
  
--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= Chapter 2: Kissing Bathroom Floors  
  
He found her in the morning, lying there on the floor. Her pale form had grown stiff during the night and her once beautiful skin appeared a sickly gray color. Her eyes stared open, looking at the shower door and never seeing it. Her hair had fanned out around her and dried in clumps, glued together by unbreakable bonds of blood. The animated face of his daughter now lay still, never again to express emotions. Her eyes would never have a spark of anger ignited within them and her lips would never quirk up in humor, laughing at some inside joke. He found her like this and it tore out his heart from his chest, still beating and dripping blood all across the hand that tore it out. He was her father, he was supposed to protect her from everything. But now, in a brutal awakening, he found he could not. With the strangled cry of a tormented soul, he fell to the floor, his knees tucked up under him. From afar he seemed to be kissing the bathroom floor, but upon closer inspection one could see silent tears making tracks down his face and held to his chest were his hands clenched in fists, knuckles white from strain. His handsome middle-aged face was scrunched up, the agony etched into it like a sculpture etched in marble. Slowly, he picked up the peices of his heart belonging to his daughter and placed them into a safe, in the hopes that someday those peices could be fixed. His face smoothed over and was like a slate of stone, unreadable and detached. On shaky legs he arose and went over to his daughter, and lightly picking her up,carried her out of the bathroom. 'Pan, why did you do this? How am I suppossed to go on? I loved you. You were my daughter. Why didn't you tell me what the problem was? I swear I could have helped if you had only let me. I love you so much, no matter what happens, I do.' --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--=  
  
Videl looked up slowly when she heard shuffling footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Just a few minutes ago she had sent Gohan up to go wake up Pan. 'That child sleeps way too much!' she thought humourously, 'And its such a chore just to wake her up. I think Pan could sleep through another arrival of Majin Boo is she felt like it.' However, when the owner of the shuffling steps finally arrived at the doorway of the kitchen, Videl's eyes grew wide. There was Pan, her daughter, in her husband's arms, unmoving. "Gohan! Gohan! What's the matter with Pan? Pan honey, wake up and tell Mommy what's wrong. It'll be ok. I'll make you better, you just have to wake up and tell me what's wrong." Through it all Gohan just stood there, immobile and emotionless, almost totally unaware of his wife's hysterics. He stood there looking like a rock cliff, until an imperceptible tear leaked out of the corner of his distant obsidian eyes. And, with that tear Videl understood. Her worry-crazed mind stopped functioning and she collapsed onto the hard grey tile kitchen floor. With aching sobs she tried to relieve the pain of loosing her little Panny-Chan, but it did not seem to help. And Gohan kept standing through it all, tears now once again flowing down his face in centimeter wide tracks. Their only daughter was gone. Little Panny whom they had loved more than life itself was gone forever. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--=  
  
Goten had just gotten himself kicked out of his mother's house again. Chi-Chi had told him he was too hyper and to get out of her house before he broke anything. 'Well, its too late for that' Goten thought sourly. 'But at least she doesn't know about her lamp....Yet.' So in typical Goten-style, he decided to go over to Videl's house for breakfast, and maybe a good ole spar with Pan-Chan afterwards. At break- neck speed he flew towards his older brother's house. His annoyingly happy demeanor soon having him doing aerial flips, twists, and turns, and by the time he tried to land on Gohan's doorstep he was too dizzy to stand. Thankfully, his saiyan heritage allowed for a quick recovery and he rushed into the house. Goten headed straight for the kitchen, ready for some breakfast. Because, of course, Videl was almost as good of a cook as Chi- Chi, not like Bulma. 'Poor Trunks' he thought. However, Fate had decreed that today Son Goten would not get to eat breakfast. As he arrived at the doorway of the kitchen, Goten saw the most disturbing sight he had ever seen. None of the horrors of his childhood had prepared him for this. He saw his older brother holding something in his arms in a very stiff manner and at his feet was his wife crying on the floor while holding onto someone's hand, a hand that was not holding back. And from his position behind Gohan he could see a deep cut with white lips and a pinkish center, and all around it was dried blood. Quietly he backed away from the horrifying scene and fled straight home. 


	4. Chocolate is an Aphrodisiac

A/N: Hey everyone. All I have to say is that AP US History is hell. I hate having mock AP exams every other week. They're hard! Never take this course. I warn you. Well, Smiley-Bob is telling me to continue so I feel I must. (Smiley- Bob is a stress ball with a smiley face on it. My ex and I named him back in sixth grade. LOL. And to think me and him are still on and off even thought we are Juniors in high school. *goes off into memory lane.....* Ok I'm back now.) On with the show... ~Kitsune~ I be 'fox'xy! LOL :)  
  
Disclaimer: hmm.. I could say that I own DBZ, but then I would be lying..Then I would get sued.. And I have no money (still!).. Shit. I better just come out and say that I don't own DBZ..But!!!, heres the climax (LOL) I own my nice black lacey thong. :D (smile, its a joke) --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= Chapter 3: Chocolate is an Aphrodisiac  
  
As soon as he could, Goten ran back in to his house. His normally tan face looked as if someone had coated it in three layers of abalaster house paint. "Son Goten! I told you not to come back into this house until lunch- time! And don't you think that you won't get punished for breaking my lamp! I should...." And with that her tirade was brought to a screeching halt. Her poor boy was on his knees bawling his eyes out, looking more like a lost child than the 31 year old man that he was. It was frightening. Immediately Chi- Chi sat on the floor next to her "little boy" abd cradled his head in her lap. "What's wrong honey?' "Mooommmmmy...(A/N O.o)... Panny..." Goten tried to speak, but he couldn't seem to get past the conversation constricting lump in his throat. That lump was threatening to suffocate him. All he needed to do was find a way to get past it and tell his mommy what was wrong. Mommy would make it all better...right? "Panny... she's gone!" And with that he clutched Chi- Chi to him, crying even louder. "Goten, sweetie, what do you mean Panny is gone? Did she run away? Is it that she just wasn't home? Come on Pumpkin, tell Mommy what you mean." "S-s-s-she--'s DEAD!" --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--=  
  
After a few phone calls to Bulma and 18, Chi-Chi and Goten found themselves in Gohan's kitchen. It was as if, in the thirty minutes that had passed since Goten's first arrival, the two had made only miniscule movements. Only a few minues passed before the entire gang had arrived, solemn faces greeting solemn faces. Throughout this entire time Gohan and Videl were oblivious to their presences. They were numb and dead to the world around them, almost as if Pan's death had taken their lives with it to the Other World. Slowly and reluctantly Chi-Chi and Bulma approached the trio. The lumped, bloody mess that was Pan's hair was the first thing they saw, then her ashen face, and lastly her entire stiff body encased in rock arms. It was terrifying. Chi-Chi ineffectually tried to tug Videl to her feet while Bulma waved her hands in Gohan's face. In the end it took Vegeta to snap the two out of their comatose reveries. "Kakarot's spawn, eat some god-damned chocolate so you and harpy #2 can at least move." "Vegeta! How the hell can you be so rude? Their only daughter is dead!" Bulma screamed at him. "Onna, I am not an imbecile like Kakarot. I can see perfectly well what has happened." "Then why are you being so base as to suggest they eat chocolate oh Mighty Saiyan Prince? hmmmm??" "Woman, with your brains I thought you would know that chocolate is an aphrodisiac. Chocolate, therefore, raises endorphanes making one happy. Why the fuck do you think women eat it after crying their eyes out?" "......oh......." and Bulma blinked slowly three times. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= And the Shadow fell upon the land, and the World was riven stone from stone. The oceans fled, and the mountains were swallowed up, and the nations were scattered to the eight corners of the World. The moon was as blood, and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead. All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of she who brought the Shadow and the Breaking of the World. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= With one simple bolt removed, all the Gates of Heaven can tumble down and crush the beauty that is perfection and so it is with the death of another. Even so small a thing as a bolt or a life thought to be unimportant can topple what appears to be the solidest structure in existance. And so the Shadow fell upon the land and the World that was the close- knit family of the Sons and Briefs was riven stone from stone. Each member was scattered to the eight corners of the World while the seas boiled over from unshed tears. The moon was as blood, and the sun as ashes and all but memory lost; the memory of Pan, she who brought the sundering of the World and who pulled the Shadow over the Sun of Life. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= Chi-Chi just sat there in her livingroom, her broken lamp forgotten. No tears could be seen falling down her gracefully aged and composed face. She sat there properly, back one inch from the backing of the couch, hands folded in her lap with knees and feet tucked together and her shoulders and spine perfectly straight. If it was not for the lost look on her face one would think she was being interviewed by Mrs. Manners herself. But, no matter how serene her face looked, behind that curtain her mind was careening past memories of her granddaughter, her only grandchild. The look on her parent's faces as they introduced Pan to the world, her first brithday, her many romps at her grandmother's house early on misty Sunday mornings and so many other poignant memories passed by her mind's eye. And so, in response to the often seem but unwelcome visitor, Death, Chi-Chi simply opened the back door and fled to Memory Lane to escape the day's pain, and, eventually, to find acceptance --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--=. At Kame House, Krillin ad his family along with Master Roshi, Turtle and Oolong sat in the livingroom reminiscing. For what better way to honor the dead than to remember their life and those that it touched? Many tears were shed and many boxes of tissues passed around, but more importantly many laughs and smiles were shared helping with the grief and the final understanding of death. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= Bulma was to be found in the strong, comforting arms of her husband, Vegeta. Tears were pouring down her face, soaking into his navy blue apndex suit and turning it into a color akin to black. If it would have been possible to see her eyes, they would have shone a a cloudy cyan instead of the normally clear aqua they should have been. Sobs could be heard and small shaking tremors constantly passed through her petite body. Curcease was found for her in the arms of a loved one who could slowly rub away all the pain with gently strong hands. And her tears allowed for the torment to find an outlet therefore troubling her less than if locked inside to fester and boil. And the person to whom those arms holding Bulma found his own comfort from the pain. Just the knowledge that someone was near who understood without words his agony was enough. The added bonus of having to be strong for another also provided a Providence-sent mean of release. For, it does not matterhow seemingly immune one is to death , how many times one has seen it, experianced it, or caused it. Death will always be a rose covered in an infinite number of thorns. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= Goten and Bra found another type of relief by simply sitting together in the same room without talking, playing an innocent board game. Sometimes the everyday mundane items help to put into perspective the event that has passed. And so, in playing 'Life' silently, they came to terms with the death of Pan, neice and bestfriend. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= Trunks however, found no surcease, no relief from the constant torment to his heart. All emotions were taken and locked into a safe deep within him and then the torturous transactions of the past twenty-four hours were purposefully and forcefully forgotten from concious memory. He placed the death of his bestfriend's neice and his own personal friend and advisor behind an unpenetrable wall where only snippets of the horror could escape during the night to haunt his dreams. Only during the darkest of times would an unknown picture of raven silk glued together by bonds of dried blood slip into his mind. Or an image of a deep red oozing cut framed by perfect skin would flash before his eyes. Denial, in the end, hurts more than the red hot rod of truth. And so, day by day, Trunks Vegeta Briefs went on as though nothing happened and the only thing to deny this was his sleep which soon became fraught with terrifying nightmares. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= He lay there, his wife tucked securly in his arms, but nothing seemed to make either feel safe. Movement did not exist for them, only a perpetual stillness. The word petrified descirbed them aptly as they lay in the darkened livingroom; both in their own worlds. Inside, they were shattered and unable to pick themselves up out of their immobile states. The death of Pan had effected the two the most and their reaction was the worst. They simply gave up. They were not angry, they did not deny the death of their daughter, nor did they try to find acceptance. Eyes that had once been filled with life, joy and kindness now shone a matte black reflecting the life around them but not partaking in it. Their daughter had been their life and with her death they died too. But each had too much spirit to simply waste away. They forced themselves to pick up the tattered peices and move on, and try to ignore the pain, but never forget. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= And so every person close to Son Pan eventually overcame her death and life continued. All save one, for who even denial could not keep the pain from his soul. 


	5. Note to Readers

ok. sorry. this isn't a chapter, but I'm trying to reply to a review. All I have to say is that I was also suicidal. I still am. Thankfully, my best friend had been here for me and we're working through our problems together. I also recommend, for anyone interested, that heated up steakknifes are great. They cut through anything and don't hurt as much. Also, I have been to the hospital before because of this and all I have to say about that is hospitals are evil and Jack and Jimmy are my friends! also, if you email me a review please include your email addy so i can reply and not have to do this.   
~Kitsune~  
P.S. I also just found out that Suicide Notes and Butterfly Kisses is the name of a band's album and I would like to say...I'm sorry..didn't know that. don't own it. 


	6. Reminiscing and Regreting

A/N: Hello again.. I'm finally back from vacation. Now, my face is all torn up and chapped and my muscles are sore. Stupid ski slopes. LoL. Anyways, I'm going to tell you now that you probably will not like my ending. It says angst for a good reason. Also, there will be a sequel so that no one kills me, but it might take a little while because my AP exams are getting close and I have to pass those first. Well, back to the story....  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own this show and personally, I think Sesshomaru and Inuyasha are cuter....I wish I owned them....but, I don't. Life sucks so get over it.  
  
--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= I live with many laments, for my people, for myself, but mostly for that little girl. lost to me now, who showed me how- and why- to live. There is no pain greater than this; not the cut of a jagged-edged blade nor the fire of a dragon's breath. Nothing burns in your heart like the emptyness of losing something, someone, before you have truly learned of its value. (Homeland, RA Salvatore, has changes) --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= For some reason he found himself here again. Week after week, month after month, in her room. And here, he would sit on her bed or in her chair at her desk and think. It was comforting. Her bedroom walls were a simple textured white with lightly stained wood floorboards running along the border. Her bedroom and closet doors were both wood of the same cast as the floorboards. Her bed was an old fashioned brass bed with a black comforter and hunter green sheets. Her window curtains were also black with sheer white curtains underneath. Her walls were covered in a medley of different items, ranging from masks to mirrors. On one wall was an assorted number of posters. One was of Audrey Hepburn in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's', another was the origional movie poster from the 1937 'Gone with the Wind.' Then there were posters from different competitions around the world. On another wall was a collection of a few odd looking masks. Some were actually vaguely intriguing, like the one of a golden face with sorrowful eyes. And from those eyes came two black tears falling towards black lips. She had what appeared to be frills from a bonnet on the top of her head also painted gold but with wide strips of silver framed in black lacing through it. Or the comedy and tragedy masks made of brass that were tilted away from each other. On a third wall were a few mums from the homecoming dances, each from a different boy and all looking very much the same. Homecoming was just so cliche and pointless. And against most of the wall was her brass bed. On the last wall was her desk and her door. Above her desk there hung a mirror which was covered in various knick-knacks like drawings and window decals from colleges. Her desk itself was covered in photo albums and picture frames, all filled with pictures of her family and friends. He was surprised to find himself in over three-quarters of the pictures; but, he was one of her good friends. Next to her desk, hanging lopsidedly was a bulletin board, again covered by a barrage of pointless items. There were notes from ex- boyfriends that she had apparently found humorous, emails about nothing and even an old dried rose that he recognized as one that Bra had sent to her on Valentine's Day to cheer her up. Of course, Bra had signed it as Secret Admirer, but Pan had guessed who it was due to the handwriting. But either way, she had always said that was the best day ever. And then, on her ceiling were more posters, only hese were of bands she liked. They strechted from one corner to the other and no hint of the ceiling was given. There were posters of Blink, GC, and other punk bands like the Ramones, along with Grateful Dead, The Beatles and Pink Floyd. Classic rock, alternative and even oldies were all represented through the medley of clashing posters. It was amazing how Pan had left so much of herself here in the room and at the same time, left nothing. So far, Trunks had touched little. He had left everything as it was almost as if to preserve Pan's essence in its true form. But today, for some reason only known to God, he felt the need to leaf through items that belonged to her. Thus, he began to pick up all the loose papers onher desk and read through them. Most were old homework assignments that had been waiting to be done, but would now wait forever; however, one caught his attention. The paper appeared to be a peice of stationary with realistic drawings of nature upon them. The paper itself was recycled and appeared refined beacuse of its courseness. On this paper was Pan's rough cursive blotch spots from what must have been tears. Thus intrigued, Trunks began to read the note to himself. Have you ever wondered what it feels like to die? I have and now I think I know. Dieing is not physical. It is when your soul shrivels up and starts to rot. It is when you hurt too much too care. I am dieing. Now if only I could leave this world. Hopefully, I will. The wise always say that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but if that is true, why all this pain? Love is just another way to bleed and happiness is a loaded gun, ready to be shot so as to malfunction and kill its holder. When Grandpa left the gun was placed in my hands and now it has gone off. I am so sorry. Death is all encompassing. It is a void that is swallowing me. Peice- by-peice I disappear. And now I have found the faith to kill myself. No, not myself. Kill the pain. Remove it permanently. I have found the strength to kill the monster before it killed me. I destroyed the soul-eating black hole inside me. Remember this, all answers are no. Life hurts. Death cures all.  
  
-Pan  
  
If one had looked at Trunks' face as he read Pan's last words they would have noticed his face becoming steadily more pale and his hands starting to shake. By the time Trunks finished reading the note he was white as untouched snow, his violet hair and blue eyes standing out against his face. He sat there in her chair, at her desk, unable to move and the note clasped tightly in his hands. 'How come noone found this? Why didn't anyone realize this was how she felt? I was her friend and she never told me what the problem was, never told any of us. We had no idea anything was wrong. Not me, not Bra, not even Goten. I wish there was a way to tell you this Pan. We really miss you and we love you. I guess they were right when they say you never know how much you love them til they are gone.'  
  
--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--=  
  
That note, which was read by Trunks those few days ago,--which broke down the final barriers between his heart and the knowledge of Pan's death, like some giant hand crumbling a sod of dirt,--was now in his pocket close to his person, and always present. It never strayed far from him, so as to always be at the beck and call of wandering fingers desperate for something of Pan's. At night, it sat on his bedside table, next to his watch, wallet and other personal items: upon waking it was the first thing he touched. Eventually the words grew illegible on the folded and wrinkled paper, soft to the touch from wear. And gradually, over a period of some two months after the discovery of the note, a realization came to him: he had lover her, as much as Gohan and Videl had, this same love, but different. 


	7. Pain is Beauty

A/N: Hello again.. Thanx to those who are reading the story. All I have to say is, sorry if you don't like it. Also, there is a sequel, but you will have to wait until I write it out first. Then I will type it. This story was not meant to end this way, but a couple things in my life influenced it. Forgive. Anyways, anytime you wanna chat with me, send an email or add me to your msn messenger. ~Kitsune~ Depression is my friend, despression is my foe, depression shall be my folly. Let the world lament, but still I shall be free, for the fleeting pain of life soon subsides into the black comfort of the drug called Death.  
  
Disclaimer: I wish I owned it, but I've learned wishing doesn't get me anywhere. Life is a dead end anyways. Why bother? And LOTR is beyond even my wishes. --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--= If beauty is pain, cannot the opposite hold true; cannot pain be beauty? Mortality is beautiful, but painful. It is a corset upon humankind, shaping us into an aesthetically pleasing thing but hurting the wearer at the same time. The beautiful corset is what makes us as we are, yet with each passing second it is cinched tighter until, at last, it kills us. For some, the strings are pulled too tight, too fast; for other they are pulled tight enough to cause unceasing pain without causing death. As Arwen was fated to watch the corset tighten around others without feeling its final pull herself, so was Trunks. But unlike Arwen, he did not have the comfort of his lover to pass the time. He was doomed to watch the years crawl by and find little joy in their passing. He was a young man, not even into his prime in Saiyan terms. His hair would remain untouched by age's first snow for fifty or more years. The crinkles of happiness would not stamp their mark next to his eyes like crows feet for some time yet and the pouchiness associated with age would never mar his features. But his eyes would say he was older. The haunted eyes possessed by an old man who has watched Death claim all who were dear to him would belong to Trunks. Eyes that were blank and scarred behind a sheer stage-curtain of happiness would shine in his face throughout his life. His haunted eyes were the effect of love. Cupid's arrow had flown too late. Cupid left his target to a cold and lonely life with the corset strings tight enough to pinch but not mercifull enough to kill. As so Trunks lived out his life. He watched as his mother grew old and died, his father following not long after. He watched as his little sister grew up, married, and had kids of her own. He watched as the Son family gradually grew farther and farther from his own until the happy times of Brief/Son picnics became only a fond memory. He watched as Bra's children grew up and also had kids. He watched, and waited. He particpated in life only when neccessary, leaving all that he once was in the past. He watched and waited for the corset strings to finally pull tight enough to kill him. But, it took a long time. Trunks was unable to simply stop living because love was gone like his father, Vegeta, had done. And som he lived. Lived a half-life until he passed away. When this event finally came, Trunks was an old man in every sense. His lilac hair shone silver and the corners of his eyes were wrinkled from a gagle of crow's feet. He was hunch-backed from Time's weight and he looked age-worn and tired. He went peacefully in his sleep and left the troubled world behind. He went to rejoin the Pattern and wait his turn for rebirth, for a second chance at life and happiness. For the Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend, then fade to myth, and are long forgot when that Age come again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose over two graves. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But, it was a beginning of a second chance.  
  
True Love Truly Conquers All 


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